


so good when you're laughing.

by in48frames



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: F/M, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Las Vegas, Spies & Secret Agents, Tigers, surprise musical theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-21
Updated: 2012-10-21
Packaged: 2017-11-16 18:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/542310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in48frames/pseuds/in48frames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kensi. Deeks. Vegas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so good when you're laughing.

**Author's Note:**

> 1) These kids will be the death of me. 2) Certain aspects of Vegas have been fictionalized. 3) I purposefully haven't checked recent stories so I apologize if this is one of many. 4) Written post-4x03, obviously.

“I hate to say it, Deeks.”

The man in question turned away from the airplane window and back to Kensi. “Yeah?”

She didn’t look up from her magazine. “I think we might have to be married this trip.”

Facing forward, he raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Oh yeah?” From the corner of his eye he saw her peek over the magazine at him, then focus back on the text.

“Only because we’ve seen what happens when I’m ‘single’ at a casino,” she said, flipping the page, “and as much as I would  _love_ —” unnecessary stress on that word, “a what-happens-in-Vegas fling,” she flipped another page, only the velocity of the flip belying her neutral tone, “that might get awkward.” Finally, she looked up and met his eyes. “Okay, let’s just say that would definitely be awkward. I know we’re not on a case, but I can count on you to be my wingman, right?”

Deeks made a gagging face and then said, “Your  _not-having-a-fling_  wingman? That I can do.” He smirked and then scratched his nose, hiding his smile, and said, “What happens when you have a bit too much to drink, though? Do you promise to listen to Uncle Deeks?”

Kensi’s turn for the gagging face, accompanied by a hand gesture, because that’s how she do. To really drive the point home, she followed with a full-body shudder. “You promise never to say ‘Uncle Deeks’ again, and I promise to follow your lead.  _Obviously_ —" stern face, eye contact, “only when it comes to not-having-a-fling.”

Turning back to the window, Deeks let his grin sneak up on his face. “ _Obviously_.”

* * *

Kensi had no problem being hit on. Sometimes she even liked it—you know, out at a club on a Friday night with no fake husband/real partner tailing her. She certainly didn’t need anyone to protect her. That was the plus of a fake husband/real partner—ward off the guys without having to resort to certain patented and occasionally violent rejection techniques. Just flash her ring and point out her handsome—uh, strike that, well-dressed? Well, male, certainly—husband across the room. Boom. Job done.

Most of the time. Sometimes it took a little more, but she was hoping that wouldn’t be the case this weekend. She slipped Melissa’s rings out of her pocket and onto her finger on the runway, and saw Deeks doing the same. When the seatbelt light turned off, Deeks very graciously offered to get her bag down from the overhead, after which she allowed him to carry both bags off the plane and through the terminal. (She can be that nice, on occasion.)

In line at the taxi stand Deeks slung his arm around Kensi’s shoulders like it was no big thing and said into her ear, “One room or two?”

Smiling pretty for all the watching eyes, Kensi turned her cheek against his and muttered back through gritted teeth, “I don’t think our cover needs to be that good.”

“So, what, stagger our entrances? Take separate cabs? How exactly do you see this not looking suspicious?”

Kensi turned her face away, squinted into the sun, and pinched Deeks’s side through his shirt. Hard.

He huffed out a laugh and bent just slightly at the middle, then bumped his hip into hers as he straightened.

Back into his ear and he could feel the tension in her jaw, though it sounded like a smile: “One room. Two beds. You snore.”

All he could do was laugh and squeeze her way tighter than necessary (and then let go really fast and walk away to ‘read’ a ‘newspaper,’ he’s not a complete idiot).

* * *

There was a long and very serious conversation about how to dress for their first foray into the casino. On cases they always seemed to play high rollers; neither being a big gambler, they weren’t exactly experts on how to play with their own money, and they  _did_  have certain limits. They also were usually dressed by Hetty. The hotel room was booked under an alias, paid for by alias credit cards—should they dress to the alias? How did government employees who were technically not actually government employees dress in Vegas? Eventually they got too confused by all the angles and decided to keep it simple: it was still daytime so they wore... basically what they wore to work every day. All right then.

Deeks gave Kensi a couple tips when it came to chips and betting. At least, he said them loudly to the bathroom door over the sound of her hair dryer. She didn’t actually acknowledge him, but he tried.

When Kensi emerged from the bathroom, freshened up after their plane ride, Deeks was at the wall-length windows. It was 2pm on a Saturday and absolutely gorgeous out, so he looked over his shoulder and said, “Fancy a stroll?”

...No, not really. It was more like, “Hey, there’s a great taco truck a few blocks from here. Want to walk over before descending into the pits?” Luckily Las Vegas is nearly identical to Los Angeles weather-wise, which meant great sun and great temperatures. Unfortunately it also meant they were a bit spoiled when it came to beautiful weather, but both were in need of leg-stretching and fresh air after time in planes and airports and before committing to the climate-controlled casino lifestyle.

Sunglasses on, they strolled down the Strip, walking slow enough to tolerate the tourist crowds. Briefly. After a few blocks walking side-by-side and not saying much, Deeks looked up at the street signs and tapped Kensi’s arm, heading off the main drag. They followed side-streets down parallel to the Strip, deserted and barren as they were. Glancing in her general direction, Deeks said uncertainly, “The Strip is really more spectacular at night anyway. Is this okay?”

Kensi turned her face to the sun, her smile automatic under her sunglasses. She dipped her head and turned that smile on Deeks, and he smiled back and looked away. For a second he was too busy committing that smile to memory to see where he was going and almost walked into a tree. Kensi grabbed his arm and hauled him back onto the sidewalk, rolling her eyes.

“Can’t take you anywhere, can I, Deeks?”

Thankfully he was right about the taco truck, or he would have really been in the doghouse.

They found a stoop in the sun on which to perch and eat their tacos. That is, half in the sun (Kensi) and half in the shade of a tree (for Deeks’s delicate Norwegian complexion). Four tacos and a lot of extra napkins later, Deeks got up to dump everything in the trash and then sat back down a couple feet away.

Kensi leaned back on her hands in the sun and drawled out, “Casinooo.”

Unconsciously copying her posture, Deeks replied, “Yep. Still over Vegas?”

“Mm. Kind of.”

He turned toward her, leaning on one elbow. “You know there are other things to do here besides gambling. Actually...” His eyes lit up and Kensi was instantly very nervous. “I have an idea.”

“Oh god. That can only be bad.”

* * *

“I thought you might like this,” he’d said.

 _Really, Deeks?_ , Kensi thought as she sat in the darkened auditorium, watching a man in a mask sing operatically while pushing a boat down some sort of underground river. Kensi is not a total neophyte, but... okay, she kind of is. She likes techno music and America’s Next Top Model and beers on the couch. But you know, you’re in Vegas, I guess you see a show. But  _this one_?

She didn’t really get it and to be honest a lot of what was happening was creeping her out. She squirmed in her seat a little and glanced over to see Deeks staring at the stage with rapt attention.  _Of course_. Of course Deeks would drag her to... Actually, no, this didn’t fit into her conception of Deeks at all, except in the way that he’s a total nutjob and never makes complete sense to her. It was kind of fun to watch his reactions, though. She couldn’t  _swear_  that he cried at one point, but it sure looked like it and she would absolutely use that as ammunition wherever necessary. So it wasn’t a total loss.

They walked out of the theatre in total silence. Kensi wanted to say something nice about a thing that Deeks clearly loved (wait, what? That doesn’t make sense) but she also didn’t want to lie. Finally she resorted to, “So that’s your kinda thing, huh?”

Deeks shook his head and looked at her with  _you have to be kidding_  all over his face. “What! No! I just thought you might like it!”

“Right. As opposed to the live tigers or the world-famous illusionists. Clearly this was the hottest ticket in town.”

“Hmph. Shows me for trying to do something nice for my  _partner_. I should have learned that lesson a long time ago.” Dramatic pout.

Kensi danced ahead and walked backwards in front of him, smiling and cajoling. “Aw, come on, Deeks. The night is young and I’m finally in the mood for the casino. You know you want to show me how it’s done.”

It was true, he did. But he thought he could draw this sulk out at least a bit longer, so he hunched his shoulders and dragged his feet. Kensi, full of bouncing energy after being cooped up in the theatre, ‘raced’ him to the doors and stood just outside, taking in the lights in the fully-fallen dark.

When Deeks came out behind her, she turned her dazzling grin on him and nearly reached out for his hand to draw him into the picture. Instead she thumped his shoulder before sweeping her arm across the street, encompassing all the lights and chaos of the Vegas Strip.

“This is pretty great, I must admit.”

“Right, because all my ideas are terrible so the fact that  _Vegas_  doesn’t  _completely suck_  is a total shock to you.”

Kensi looked up, sighed, then turned to face Deeks head-on and placed a firm hand on each shoulder. “Marty Deeks. Non-government employee. If you do not stop sulking this minute I will have our marriage annulled and go find that fling I’m not supposed to have.” She inserted a weighty pause and a raised eyebrow. “Is that what you want?”

That stupid smile snuck up on his face and Deeks put Kensi in a loose headlock, because that’s totally normal married-couple behaviour. She elbowed him in the side—HARD.

That about brought them back up to par.

* * *

Having changed into nicer clothes for dinner and the show, Kensi and Deeks entered the casino looking like—not quite a million bucks. Maybe three grand-ish? Deeks appeared clean-cut in a white shirt and charcoal jacket, while Kensi was decked out in a skin-tight black dress, because come on. It’s the weekend. It’s Vegas. Enough said.

Just inside the door, Deeks touched Kensi’s elbow to stop her for a second. The casino was noisy, to put it mildly, so he only had to lower his voice (and maybe lean a tiny bit closer).

“I’m thinking about a little side wager...”

“Not. Interested.” Kensi’s eyes were scanning the room non-stop, from the floor to the ceiling and the furthest back corners.

“Oh please. You know you won’t have fun without a little challenge. Don’t play with me.” After a second he snickered and gave her a look that clearly said,  _But you can if you want to._

She pushed him away with one finger and said, “Just for that, I should leave you to your own,” pause in which she gave him a once-over, “sad, pathetic devices. But I’m listening.” The tilt of her head and level of her eyebrows said,  _Against my better judgment._  And also,  _You’re an idiot_ , but that was pretty much a permanent fixture.

“I figure it’s probably hard for both of us to leave work behind. Healthy, yes, but, uhh...” He gestured at himself and then at Kensi. “So! Since we’re about to play a few games, I thought we could add one more angle. I’m sure you’ve already placed most of the easy marks, addicts, and experts, but we’re not going to play on that. Instead, I say we each pick one normal person and get them to open up. You can be as real or as cover as you want. Just get a story out of them. By the end of the night, the best story or the highest number of stories wins.”

He looked so proud of himself and all Kensi could do was say, “Oh my god,” and stare him down.

“That seriously sounds like work,” Kensi said after a minute or two. “Why would I want to do work on my vacation?”

“I know right, and plus I’m just really good at all that interpersonal stuff and it would probably end up pretty embarrassing for you.”

His angelic smile should not have been even nearly as appealing as it was.

“It’s a game, Kensi. And I’m going to beat you. So I understand if you don’t want to play.”

Kensi’s glare was a force to be reckoned with, though Deeks was close to entirely immune by this point (or maybe from the start. She doesn’t scare him... except in the ways that she does. But anyway).

“Fine. You’re a jerk and I hate you, but fine. I’ll play. And I will beat you. Now go away.”

Deeks headed off to the other side of the room and she watched him go. Before turning away, he pointed two fingers at his eyes and then at her;  _I’m watching you_. She did ask for it, so she smiled and rolled her eyes and looked for a good poker table.

Her first choice was a table with several older men and women. She sat next to a 70-year-old balding gentleman and was welcomed by all with “My, don’t you look like a nice young lady!” Before long they were sharing tales of their children and grandchildren and Kensi was relaxing into an atmosphere that felt surprisingly satisfactory.

Sadly, older people like to sleep when it’s dark out, and her friends trickled away before the first hour came to a close. They were replaced by all-nighter types, but Kensi was pretty happy with her efforts and didn’t try too hard to repeat her success.

Soon after, the first drink arrived. There may have been a few others before, but she hadn’t been paying attention and they hadn’t demanded it. Now that there was a seat open beside her, the drinks came with men.

The drink arrived first, delivered by a discreet waiter. She would take a sip, then the chair next to her would be occupied. They opened with, “Are you here alone?” or worse, “What’s a beautiful woman such as yourself doing sitting here all by herself?” She was polite and to the point, flashing her ring before they got too far.

Then the really depressing part. “Well, if you change your mind,” wink, smirk, other lecherous facial expression, “here’s my cell number/room number,” and they’d hand her a napkin, which she didn’t touch. The man would leave, Kensi would down the drink in self-pity, and then the next one would arrive. It was astounding how closely the pattern repeated itself. Kensi tucked each napkin under the hem of her dress once the man had left, since she would obviously need proof of this later. When she ran out of space, and/or had had enough (a bit too much) to drink, and/or was too depressed to continue, she scoped the room out for Deeks.

She spotted his shaggy head on the other side of the room with his back to her, leaning in to what looked like a beautiful woman. Gathering the napkins into a fistful, she left her table and curved to the right so she could come up behind him.

Standing a few feet back, she planted her feet, put her hands on her hips, counted to three and screeched, “You son of a bitch!”

Deeks made it to his feet in record time, while the woman seated next to him turned and rose halfway with wide eyes. Nearly falling over his chair, Deeks scrambled to Kensi’s side.

“Fern!”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? You think you can just run off with the first piece of ass you see? Does this mean nothing to you?” And she held up her left hand, then covered her face with her right and stormed toward the exit.

She could hear Deeks apologizing to his friend, then following her out, saying, “Fern... Fern... Fern! Come on, Fern!” until they were out in the corridor and Kensi ducked into an alcove out of the way.

In the alcove she stood with her back to him and her hands on her hips, then turned with a sly smile and said, “That was the most fun I had all night. Oh, the look on your face.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Deeks scratched his chin and smiled. “Guessing you didn’t do so hot, then?”

“Nice choice of words.” Kensi held up her fistful of napkins and tossed them up in the air, letting them float to the carpet. “Men are pigs.”

“True.”

Smile gone, Kensi let her eyes drift down and pouted a bit, looking morose. She knew the alcohol was contributing to her depression but she was still sad and it sucked.

At this point Deeks mentally reviewed his options. Kiss her: no. Hug her: no. Touch her face: no. Put an arm around her in a friendly and casual way: ...maybe. Take her back to the room in the least sexy way possible: sadly, yes. His hands twitched at his sides with the desire to reach out, but he didn’t think it was the right time for a risk. Instead he said, “Come on, Kens, let’s get you to, uh, bed.

“You know, your bed. Your personal, private, individual bed.”

Her mouth twitched and he shrugged, holding his hands up and smiling sheepishly.

Hands in his pockets, Deeks shambled along beside her to the elevators; regulation distance of at least three inches between them. In the room, Kensi used Deeks’s conveniently-placed shoulder to step out of her shoes, then crawled fully-dressed under the covers. Deeks went into the bathroom, put warm water on a washcloth, then grabbed a bottle of water from the minifridge and sat lightly on the edge of the bed next to Kensi.

Face pressed into the pillow, she watched him silently.

“You’re going to have to sit up a bit,” he said, waving the bottle of water.

“What makes you think I need that?”

“Let’s just say I know you pretty well.”

She pouted and squinted at him, then sat up and took the bottle. After a couple of ice cold gulps, she wiped her mouth and pointed at the washcloth in his other hand. “What’s that for?”

“Just in case you want to wash your face.”

Pursing her lips, Kensi watched him appraisingly, then took the washcloth from him. With it bunched in her hand, she hesitated, then said, “Close your eyes.”

Brow furrowed, Deeks cocked his head, looking like a confused puppy dog.

“Just do it!”

He acquiesced, closing his eyes and covering them with one hand. Kensi waved her hand in front of his face, then pressed the warm cloth to her face and scrubbed off most of her makeup. She did her best to avoid raccoon eyes and then accepted that she would undoubtedly look like a horror movie. It was only Deeks, after all. (Right? Right.)

“Okay,” she said, dumping the cloth onto the bedside table and picking up her water bottle again. Deeks peeked through his fingers at her and then dropped his hand.

Kensi was sitting with her legs crossed and the blankets covering her lap. In one hand she held the water bottle; the other was loose and relaxed on the comforter. After they sat still for a moment, Deeks held his breath and reached out, slipping his palm under hers. Kensi looked down, stared at their hands, but didn’t move.

“I’m sorry you had a bad night. Can I make it up to you?” said Deeks.

She looked up fast and her eyes quickly scanned his face. Finding nothing to confirm her reflex fear, she relaxed her shoulders and blew out a breath.

She stared at him for one more beat and then said, “I want to see the tigers.”

Deeks smiled. “Will that make up for my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea?”

“Normally I would make you pay for that for a very long time, but.” She closed her fingers around his hand. “Tigers.” She nodded. “Tigers make up for a lot.”

Deeks squeezed her hand and then let go, getting to his feet. “Goodnight, Kensi.” As if it were normal, as if it were a thing, as if it weren’t one of the largest risks he’d ever taken, he brought a hand to her face and leaned over to kiss her forehead. “Sleep tight.”

She didn’t smile or frown. She slid down in the bed and pulled the covers up to her ears, closing her eyes.

* * *

The next day at around noon, Deeks put a glass of water and a pair of Advil on the bedside table next to Kensi’s head. He waited a second, then poked her shoulder. She woke with a start, bringing her outside arm up in front of her face, before registering her surroundings and company. Then she rolled onto her back and blinked sleepily, stretching.

“Good morning.”

“Afternoon, actually,” he said from the other side of the room, flitting about (in the manliest way a person can flit) opening curtains and moving things around. “I would have let you wake up on your own, but we should eat before seeing the tigers.”

“Tigers?”

Deeks laughed blatantly and said, “Don’t tell me you don’t remember?”

It took her a second. Only a second, because, “I didn’t have all that much to drink, you know.”

“Admittedly I wasn’t keeping count from the other side of the casino, but um, I’m pretty sure you did have all that much to drink.”

“My alcohol tolerance is freakishly high,” she said, adopting a pompous look and tone and sitting up to obtain the necessary haughty air. “Don’t tell me you haven’t systematically increased your immunity to alcoholic beverages in order to enhance your performance in situations where the consumption of alcohol could make or break an undercover case.”

“Wow. You wake up fast.”

She burst out laughing. “Never too early in the day to start messing with your head, Deeks.”

“I didn’t even absorb half of that, so call it a success, I guess.

“Now, I don’t want you to get used to the royal treatment, but I did order room service and I am willing to serve it to you in bed. This is a one-time deal, and only because you’re all pathetic and hungover.”

Kensi cocked her head, looked down at herself, then shrugged and patted the blankets. “Lay it on me, partner.”

Deeks brought over a covered plate, depositing it in front of her and removing the lid with a flourish. He walked across the room to pour a cup of coffee and Kensi set to shoveling eggs into her mouth. Turning back with a full mug, Deeks stopped at the sight.

“Seriously, you’re not even a little hungover? How is that fair?”

Kensi shrugged and spoke with her mouth full: “I’m a bit sleepy, does that help?”

On cue, Deeks walked over and set her coffee down on the side table. “If you stay in a good mood all day, I’ll let it pass. Although you may have just opened yourself up to a Dr. Deeks’s Medical Experiments Clinic: Give Kensi A Hangover.” He reached out to ruffle her hair, then used his hand instead to ‘measure’ the circumference of her head. Kensi flailed her arm over her head to swat him away, then pointed her fork at him.

“Watch yourself, Martin.”

He danced out of the way and across the room, giving her a salute before heading into the bathroom and closing the door. Kensi ran her fingers through her hair and shook her head to rid herself of the creepy sensation of fingers on her scalp. The things she puts up with—well, that’s just not factual at all. The things she doesn’t put up with but still has to deal with on a daily basis because her partner is freaking Deeks. That pretty much covers it.

* * *

They flew out that evening. Kensi took the window seat this time, and there was a little plush tiger poking out of her shoulder bag. She claimed it was for “her friend’s baby,” though Deeks didn’t buy that for a second. He saw the way her face lit up when she spotted it and she bit her lip to hide her smile; the girl likes to think she’s made of steel and he’ll allow it, but she doesn’t fool him.

To the window, Kensi said, “I hate to say it, Deeks,” and an uncontrollable grin took over his face, which was just embarrassing. He covered his mouth with his hand,  _fully aware_  of how much of a hypocrite he was and wondering whether he was any better at acting than Kensi.

“Yeah?”

She turned just half her body back to look at him. “This weekend wasn’t half-bad.”

“ _Really?_  Because it didn’t seem that way last night.

She frowned, then smiled. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. It wasn’t such a bad idea.” She turned back to the window, and said, “Our real mistake was splitting up. We work so much better as a team,” to the scratched plastic porthole.

Deeks decided to take a walk around the cabin, due to an inability to regulate his facial expressions. He was really going to have to work on that.

 


End file.
